


Nothing

by fakebodies



Category: Alien (1979)
Genre: Angst, Possibly Unrequited Love, for now tho.. ig enjoy???? have some angst, pbbbbth i need to write some cute shit for these two, this is just really sad and not fun for anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 21:28:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11655087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakebodies/pseuds/fakebodies
Summary: Some nights Kane was unlucky, and would spend the hours before their artificial dawn smoking. Other nights, however, he was lucky. Other nights, Dallas was awake as well.





	Nothing

Kane often had problems sleeping. It never affected him too much, by now he was used to it and could easily run on half a night's sleep, but that didn't make it any more pleasant. Some nights he was unlucky, and would spend the hours before their artificial dawn smoking until he was calm enough to lay back down, or it was time to start preparing breakfast. Whichever came first. Other nights, however, he was lucky.

He supposes it's selfish of him to think of the nights where Dallas cannot sleep either as his lucky nights. They are, though. When he's lucky, Dallas will join him, and will gather Kane into his arms and gently comb his fingers through Kane's hair until Kane has been lulled back to an almost-sleep, cigarettes and memories forgotten. Forgotten in favor of the warmth of Dallas' chest, his strong arms and steady heartbeat. Sometimes, he thinks these nights are even better than ones where he sleeps peacefully and wakes up to his alarm. Sometimes, he thinks they're so good because they're dreams as well.

What happens at two or three or four in the morning, they never talk about. It's all professional in front of the rest of the crew, polite smiles and casual conversation about where they're headed and what they'll do when they get home. Never together, always on their own. Kane wouldn't know what to say if asked about Dallas. Sure, that he's a good captain- naturally. He's the best captain Kane's worked with. Kane will be the first to admit his judgement may be partial. He may be in love with Dallas. In fact, he's fairly certain he is.

Kane would never say such things aloud, though, and certainly never to Dallas. Dallas may be sturdy and safe, but what they have is fragile, and silent, and it needs to stay that way. As long as Dallas keeps quiet, so will Kane. Sometimes Kane wonders, though, how he feels. If he feels the same sort of love. If he is disappointed on the nights he is awake alone, and Kane is asleep. Kane thinks, to Dallas, it's simply supporting a friend. Doing what he can to make sure Kane doesn't fall apart. Surely, Kane thinks, what Dallas feels for him is not love. Naturally.

Kane drifts, slowly. Drifts apart from Dallas. From everyone, to an extent. He was never very close to begin with, because he had never stayed very long with one crew, and it just wasn't who he was. It took him a long time to consider someone a friend. Dallas had always been more than that, but Kane had come to realize he couldn't keep clinging to a hope that Dallas would want something more. They both have their own lives back on Earth. Lives which don't involve each other.

Kane begins spending his sleepless nights in his room, hands shaking as he lights one cigarette, and then another, and another, and another. Until his nerves aren't so frayed, his limbs not so unsteady. Then he lays on his back, and he thinks. Thinks, until his alarm goes off, about things he usually tried desperately not to think about. Lambert comments, one morning, that he looks dead. He smiles a little, and lets the others continue the joke while he fixes himself his second cup of coffee and ignores the feeling of Dallas' eyes on him.

It is, later, Dallas' voice that keeps him calm as he examines the eggs. Dallas, over the comm, asking if he's alright. Asking what's going on. Kane tells him what details he can, trying to ignore the ever-present sense of unease, the desperate urge to run. To get away from this place as quickly as he can. Later, there is nothing he can do. Nothing anyone can do, as the egg splits open. Kane cannot ignore the terror pounding as the alien hatchling eats its way through his helmet. Nothing, as the world around him goes dark. Not even Dallas' panicked shouts will bring him back from this.

When Kane wakes up, everyone is there. Everyone, and Dallas is there too. He seems so relieved. So happy to see Kane sitting up, conscious, and talking. To see that he's doing fine. Kane absentmindedly rubs his chest as he redresses, and when he steps into the hall, Dallas is there. Again. Waiting, just for him. He looks up at Kane, exhausted and relieved, still worried but happy. All those feelings, just for Kane. He takes Kane's hand, gently squeezing it once, and apologizes to him. When Kane asks what for, he says for not having any better food on the ship. It's a celebratory meal, he says. All because Kane is alive. Kane doesn't think he could possibly love Dallas more.

It. Hurts. It hurts. It hurts, and that's all Kane can think. It hurts, and he's crying, and he cannot see. It hurts, but somebody is cradling his head. Somebody is keeping him still. It hurts, and it hurts and it hurts and it hurts, but Kane reaches desperately out for the person cradling him. His fingers slide blindly down someone's chest, and he tries to grab the shirt but it hurts, and he cries out, choking on nothing. On air, on blood. Just choking. He wishes, desperately, in a moment of clarity, for the strong, safe, warm arms that used to hold him when it all hurt too much. There is one final, blinding crack of pain. Then, there is nothing.

* * *

 

Dallas is left, stunned silent, staring at the man on the table. He is distantly aware of the hissing, screeching creature in the corpse's mangled chest cavity. After that, he's distantly aware of everything. He runs on autopilot as they search for the alien. He's on autopilot as he prepares Kane's corpse for burial. He's on autopilot as he wanders through the vents alone, and Ripley's desperate shouts for him to go the other way don't register until it's too late. He turns, greeted by a facefull of hissing, angry alien, and then there is nothing.

It's his turn to wake up after a period of time in the clutches of an alien creature. His turn to sit in pain as his legs are eaten away. It aches, closer than anything after Kane's death. Closer than Brett's corpse undergoing its own transformation. He wonders why his own fate is so slow to come, until Brett begins to be an egg, a not-Brett, a thing. The thing that had kept Kane in a coma, it must need a host, something living. He's certainly alive, and immobile, and Dallas can really only examine this fact with a strange sort of acceptance. In all honesty, he'd accepted his death when he'd climbed into the ship's vents. As far as anyone is concerned, he's long gone.

It's hard to remain so detached, so accepting, for an eternity. Hard even for an hour or two. Everything hurts, and he's exhausted from trying desperately to break free. He hangs, limp in the cocoon created for him, until he becomes aware of Ripley in front of him. Of her asking what to do, how she can fix this. She says she can get him down, that she can help, but they both know she can't. There's nothing now, for him, and he doesn't think he could live if he wanted to. He looks at her.

"Kill me..."

Dallas doesn't have the energy left to scream as the fire surrounds him. He just closes his eyes, and he waits for nothing.


End file.
